At first glance, the Beans don't seem to have chosen a very good name for themselves. This, after all, is a band that performs "epic instrumental mutations", not the college rock covers that their name seems to suggest. While Beans sound more than a little like other bands with brief or single-word names -- Pele, L'Altra, 33.3, even Tortoise -- those bands seem to reach for at least a small measure of exoticism. Nothing could be more everyday, more run-of-the-mill, more downright bland than Beans.
Of course, the Beans aren't bland, and as far as commercial radio is concerned, they certainly aren't run-of-the-mill. But the Beans are accessible in a way that so much sprawling, textural music isn't; their songs are simple, insular, conversational and direct. They're not attempting to impress you with obscure jazz references or bludgeon you with jaw-dropping climaxes. They want you to enjoy the music. They want to connect.
The Beans' organic approach doesn't preclude a rich sonic palette. "Window y Tower" begins with a noisy serenade of honking trumpets, squawking like a flock of geese, then segues into a bass riff that picks up details as it rolls gently forward. Toward the end of the song, an accordion takes over from the bass, wheezing the melody in mournful Piazzolla-esque style. (I'm always excited when I get to name-check Astor Piazzolla, so I was slightly disappointed to discover that the band's press materials had gotten there first.) The end of the song collapses into sampled speech and odd ambient drawls, with the accordion still audible at an uncertain distance. "I Breathe the Air (From Other Planets)" is predictably otherworldly, staggering forward on a stunted rhythm of treated piano tones and looped choral vocals. "Lasa-Ma in Pace" folds unwieldy sheets of whistling ambience over introspective guitar noodling; these eventually give way as the melody abruptly matures, blossoming into an assertive, explorative minor key riff.
Listen closely to "Hollow Stars", which closes the album, and see if you recognize elements of a traditional lullaby. The song probably won't put you to sleep, but its languid guitar melody is the aural equivalent of slipping into a hot bath. You can almost feel your muscles relaxing as you listen.
So how to describe the Beans? They're not bland. They aren't necessarily comfortable or familiar, inasmuch as those words imply complacency. Their music pushes boundaries, mixing organic and mechanical elements, but the juxtapositions are a means to an end, supporting a long-term musical vision rather than a short-term shock. Where some other bands are happy to make their music palatable, Beans attempt to be digestible. Crane Wars might not give you a chance to look über-hip by catching an oblique instrumental reference to Caetano Veloso...but you can play it for your grandmother. She'll probably even like it.
